


Heart of the Battle

by Anonymous



Series: and I love to listen to the stars at night [1]
Category: Chinese Actor RPF, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M, Police/Doctor (?) AU, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:07:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26665672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Phantom Thief White Rabbit was the singular most frustrating case for Officer Wang Yibo. Equally—if not more—frustrating was his intense crush on Doctor Xiao Zhan.
Relationships: Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan | Sean
Series: and I love to listen to the stars at night [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000617
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55
Collections: Anonymous





	1. battle for the heart

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in a vaguely real but fictional setting. Place and brand names have been tweaked.  
> An alarming lack of research has gone into this. Please don't think too much.  
> Have fun!

An hour and a half into the gala, the steady vigilance Wang Yibo had started the night with had eroded into impatience. It did not help that the self-congratulatory blather of the rich and powerful had gotten boring within the first minute. Da Zhangwei had joked that it was an opportunity for Wang Yibo to observe the country’s elite up close, but so far all he had seen were smiles fake enough to mimic Madame Marie’s wax statues. 

And glitter. Plenty of glitter. The muted glitter of dresses that cost two years of Wang Yibo’s salary, the reflection of light from equally expensive jewellery, the diamond necklace with a 23.18 carat centerpiece that was Wang Yibo’s primary target to protect. Earlier in the evening it had been a hassle to protect the necklace while the attendees ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the display case; it hadn’t taken long before they realised there were only so many minutes they could spend staring at a beautiful dead rock. 

All the better for Wang Yibo to focus on his job. 

All the better, too, for the White Rabbit to make his move any time. 

There was the faintest buzzing of white noise in his earpiece, preceding his mentor’s voice. _“Yibo. Any abnormalities?”_

“None, sir,” Yibo murmured. 

Wang Han made a sound of acknowledgment. _“Best if nothing happens and_ **_Heart of the Battle_ ** _goes safely home.”_

 _Impossible_ , Wang Yibo thought, impatience and anticipation thrumming equally through his veins. The White Rabbit’s appearances might be infrequent, but when he did announce his intention he never failed to turn up. 

Wang Yibo felt around the edge of the rabbit-shaped card in his pocket, careful not to crumple it. 

_“There hasn’t been a new guest in the past half an hour,”_ Qian Feng reported. 

Wang Yibo’s eyes narrowed. If the White Rabbit had disguised himself as a guest, he would already be in the venue; arriving at this point would only draw the attention of the outer security ring. Yet all the guests had gone through a stringent security check overseen by Da Zhangwei himself, whose goofy actions belied the sharpness of his eyes. Surely none of the guests could conceivably hide the tools they would need to steal the necklace. For a second Wang Yibo considered that the White Rabbit could glide through the sky as rumours suggested, carving a hole in the ceiling and landing through it. He dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. That was not the White Rabbit's style.

 _Where are you then?_ Wang Yibo thought, clenching his fist against his back.

The shrill laughter from a corner of the ballroom grated upon his nerves, inane chatter a constant buzz in the background. Waiters and waitresses were weaving through the crowd, offering unending glasses of champagne. The music from the live band rose to a crescendo. Wang Yibo’s team stood around the perimeter and next to the exits, watching, waiting. 

In the center of the room _Heart of the Battle_ gleamed under the light of the chandelier, brighter than a star. 

The light went out. 

In that moment of silence where the brain was trying to process a sudden occurrence, Wang Yibo had already leapt from stillness into a ferocious dash, body moving without conscious thought.

Three steps away from the center of the room, the music fell into discordance.

Two steps away, a woman screamed, then another, until the room was filled with the noise of confusion.

One step away, he hissed into his earpiece, his voice unrecognisable to himself, something primal in it—“ _He’s here_.”

But there was nothing in the center of the room: no warm body to collide against, no gasp of surprise in his ear. His hands touched the cool surface of the display case, the edge nicking his glove.

The light flickered back on. 

Wang Yibo hid his flinch at the assault of light. Under the renewed glare, it was even clearer—he stood alone with the locked display case.

It couldn’t have been dark for more than five seconds, yet it was enough for the ballroom to be in utter chaos. Drinks and food were spilt on the floor. Somebody was still screaming. Within the display case the necklace gleamed, innocent and beguiling. 

“Quiet!” Wang Yibo said. 

He hadn’t said it any louder than he would when commanding his team, but it must have been effective in some way—the room fell silent. His team had secured the exits, awaiting his next word. 

“Jasmine Ballroom secured. _Heart of the Battle_ still here,” Wang Yibo muttered as his eyes scanned the room once then a second time, slowly. There were lost expressions, confused ones, even affronted faces, like he had been responsible for ruining the gala. But nothing that screamed White Rabbit to him. 

_“No change to the outer perimeter,”_ Qian Feng said. 

_“Nor within the building,”_ Da Zhangwei said. 

_“Hold your places, keep the building secure. Do not let anybody in or out. Yibo, keep the guests calm, I will be headed over.”_

“Yes, sir,” Wang Yibo said, grimacing at the last order. He would be the first to admit he would not win prizes for people skills. Deliberate in raising his voice this time, he said, “The incident is currently being investigated. Remain calm and stay where you are.” He paused. “Please.”

“Has somebody been murdered?” A man in an unflattering pinstripe suit yelled. 

Wang Yibo rolled his eyes. “Do you see any blood?” 

In the prolonged silence, he looked back at the display case. There was no change to the necklace: still shiny, still stupidly expensive. With the adrenaline wearing off there was something sour on his tongue, like disappointment. 

_Is that all you’ve got, White Rabbit?_

The triumph tasted empty. 

In slightly under a minute, Wang Han appeared with the CEO and professional jeweller of Kartier. The CEO’s forehead was shiny with sweat, the gleaming smile he had at the opening speech replaced by fluster. His professional jeweller approached the display case calmly. Wang Yibo saluted Wang Han before standing at ease. 

“Sir,” he greeted. 

Wang Han nodded, smiling briefly. “Officer Wang. Let us await Mr. Li’s findings.” 

The jeweller, either oblivious or wilfully ignorant of the tension in the room, hemmed and hawed as he undid the complicated locks and held the necklace in gloved hands. The crowd murmured. The CEO sweated. Wang Yibo watched, feeling the card like a weight in his pocket. 

After a long moment, during which the only disturbance was the light reflecting off the necklace being tilted left and right, the jeweller chuckled. It was amused and rueful all at once. 

“Oh my, CEO Jin. I can assure you this is a beautiful likeness of _Heart of the Battle_.”

The CEO opened and closed his mouth, but the cloying weight of victory that had lined Wang Yibo’s throat cleared. There was a heady rush through his veins, not unlike the time he watched Valentino Rossi win his ninth Grand Prix championship. 

“But—h-how could—the White Rabbit couldn’t have possibly stolen it?” CEO Jin said, as though by smiling enough he could convince the jeweller to tell him a different story. 

Mr. Li hummed, looking at the counterfeit admiringly. “The White Rabbit certainly is a connoisseur of beauty,” he said, placid as a lake. 

As CEO Jin made gasping, winded sounds, Wang Han clapped Wang Yibo on the shoulder. He sighed. “Looks like it'll be another long night, Officer Wang. The White Rabbit got ahead of us again.” 

“Of course,” Wang Yibo said. 

Wang Han gave him a look, like he knew which part of the statement Wang Yibo had been responding to. With another brief smile, Wang Han shook his head. He turned to handle a distraught CEO Jin.

Taking that moment before the organised chaos of questioning a roomful of people began, Wang Yibo slipped the card out of his pocket. The calligraphic script, simple and elegant, seemed to smile at him. 

**_Notice_ **

_Would you care to battle for the heart  
_ _where the jasmines bloom?_

_~White Rabbit~_


	2. the tip of the string

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where it begins.

The first time Wang Yibo was assigned a White Rabbit mission, it was at a Guccio invite-only showcase. 

As with any luxury brand, the clientele was of the upper class. He had had no contact with this segment of society for the twenty-one years he had lived; people spending money on impractical clothes and jewellery was a foreign notion to street dogs like him. If at sixteen someone had told him he would one day protect the rich and their riches, he would have laughed himself sick. He would have told his brothers and they would have laughed with him too. 

Yet, just one season after joining the force, here he was. Wang Yibo stared, repulsed by the flaunting of wealth. He was certain that lady’s neck would snap under the weight of her three shiny necklaces.

“Excessive, right? You’ll get used to it,” his senior officer, Da Zhangwei, said. 

Wang Yibo frowned. “Does Han-ge take on many of these cases?” 

“Not so much, until the White Rabbit case was transferred to him.” He looked at Wang Yibo and grinned. “What’s with that face?” 

“Nothing,” Wang Yibo said. He continued scanning the premises. The objective wasn’t aligned with his ideals of what the job entailed—which did not include protecting useless ornaments—but he wasn’t about to half-ass it.

“Ah Yibo, you’re so easy to read,” Da Zhangwei said with a chuckle. “If we catch the White Rabbit you probably won’t have to protect pretty dead rocks anymore.” 

“We _will_ catch him,” Wang Yibo vowed. 

For all his misgivings about the value of protecting jewellery instead of being out on the streets protecting people, Wang Yibo had spent days poring over the files for the previous two White Rabbit cases. Two successful steals had been enough to make the White Rabbit known among the police community. The ring inlaid with rubies for his first steal was pricey, the necklace of South Sea pearls for his second steal less so; both had nonetheless been stolen quietly from under the nose of the security detail, and both steals had been announced beforehand with a rabbit-shaped card. Both times, the investigative trail had led to a dead end. 

In his academy days Wang Yibo had been praised and berated in equal measure for pushing himself to the limits. That sheer bullheadedness wasn’t about to change now. Not if he wanted to solve the case of the White Rabbit. 

He watched as the Guccio spokespeople interacted and laughed quietly with the guests, holding out pieces from their newest line for them to try on their wrist or neck or dangle before their ears. The White Rabbit’s notice hadn’t specified any piece this time, demanding the team’s focus on all the showpieces. 

“What do you think he’ll go for?” Da Zhangwei asked. 

“The lion head pendant,” Wang Yibo said absently. 

Da Zhangwei was silent for a while. Wang Yibo looked at his surprised expression, which turned into a thoughtful one. “Really?” 

“A guess.” 

“He referred to _a string of stars_ in his notice. I would have guessed a silver necklace.” 

“He said _let us_ **_play with_ ** _a string of stars among a field of grass_. It’s what cats do. It’s like what he does, leading us on a chase then slipping silently away.” Wang Yibo thought about it for a moment and nodded in deference. “But it could be a silver necklace too.”

Da Zhangwei considered him. Wang Yibo couldn’t begin deciphering that look before Da Zhangwei laughed and patted his shoulder, warm and easy as always. “Let’s see if he gives us the answer.” 

“He won’t. We’ll catch him before he does,” Wang Yibo said. 

“Confident, aren’t you?” Da Zhangwei said. In his voice it was fond; Wang Yibo knew his academy peers would have said the same with derision. 

“I just don’t like losing.” 

Da Zhangwei hummed in agreement. “That you don’t, yeah.” 

Wang Yibo looked towards the display for the pendants where the lion head gleamed in its pride of place, cushioned on red velvet, strangely and fiercely beautiful. He allowed himself a minute to stare. Then he continued standing at attention, watching for any unusual activity, insofar as anything about a private event for the elite could be considered usual. 

But contrary to their expectation, the event ended without a fuss. Da Zhangwei and Wang Yibo exchanged glances as the doors closed behind the last guest. The expressions on the rest of Da Zhangwei’s team, professional as they were, showed the same surprise. 

“Maybe he forgot the date,” Da Zhangwei said. 

Wang Yibo did not need even a second to conclude, “Impossible.” 

Da Zhangwei sighed. “You’re right.” 

He made the gesture for the team to continue standing at attention as he walked to where the Guccio organisers were and conferred with them. His brows drew together in consternation.

“Officers,” he said, authority unmistakable in his every word. “We stay until every item is accounted for.” 

“Yes, sir!” 

The closing of the event was its own form of chaos, employees checking and packing the fragile items for transportation in a sequence only they understood, the process real and messy in a way the event itself hadn’t been. Wang Yibo glanced at Da Zhangwei and received his nod of permission before going over to where the pendants had been displayed. There was a prickling of unease running down his back, born of an animal instinct that hadn’t been polished off him even after the academy. 

If he was wrong, and the White Rabbit hadn’t been targeting the pendant or had failed to retrieve the item, then so be it. 

But if he was right, and if the way the light was hitting it wasn’t a mistake— 

“Take that out,” he said, voice sharp with sudden realisation. 

The Guccio employee jumped, nearly dropping another pendant he was handling. “S-sorry?” 

Wang Yibo made a sound of impatience. “The lion head.” 

“Oh! Do you mean _The Star of Leo_ , Officer?” 

“What?” Apparently luxury brands also had a penchant for grand names, even for lion heads. “Yeah, whatever you call it.”

The man made a face, either at Wang Yibo disrupting the secret sequence of packing jewellery or at his lack of regard for pendant names. But he did his work dutifully, which was how Wang Yibo got to see what it was like when blood drained from a man’s face. Carefully, he took the pendant from the man’s limp hand, turning it under the light. 

“It’s...it’s—” the employee whispered. 

“Hollow,” Wang Yibo said, knowing, even before the employee said it, that the pendant was much lighter than it should be. The lion head glimmered at him, finely done metal and glass work that still could not compare to the thirty thousand yuan original. 

“What did you find?” Da Zhangwei asked. He sounded like he was already prepared for bad news. 

Wang Yibo turned and offered the fake pendant for his inspection. “The White Rabbit’s answer, Sir.” 

Later, the investigation led them to Guccio employee Xu Mintang who, confused, told them he had been on leave for three days, corroborated by records of him using YiQiChat to buy food in a city two hours away by flight. 

Yet a Xu Mintang had certainly been present for his shift at the showcase. 

.

.

.

The first time Wang Yibo met Xiao Zhan, he was in the ER with an arm pierced by a broken glass bottle. It wasn’t much different from the time Zhou Yixuan rushed him to an underground doctor who might or might not have had a license, except he was in uniform now and the community hospital was less shitty than the underground doctor’s clinic. 

It was past three in the morning, not too long after they had prevented a drunken brawl from becoming a drunken murder. Worried that the glass might have nicked an artery, Qian Feng had broken several traffic laws to get him here. Wang Yibo telling him he would have lost enough blood to be in shock if that were the case didn’t seem to have reassured him. For his part Wang Yibo was more annoyed than in pain, vaguely hungry, and wondering how many cracks there were in the wall. 

“Just how high is your pain threshold?” Unable to do anything now that all they could do was wait, Qian Feng had progressed to interrogation. They had known each other for two weeks and already Wang Yibo felt motherhenned. “Yibo, man to man, be honest with your ge: are you the type to breakdance on two broken legs while saying you’re fine?” 

“Feng-ge, do you think I’m not human or something?” Wang Yibo said with a huff of laughter. “For the record, it was one broken ankle.” 

“...what.” 

Wang Yibo shrugged. “It was a long time ago. And it wasn’t dancing. I had to run.”

“I’m sorry, but what.” 

“You know how it is, Feng-ge. The adrenaline.” Wang Yibo waved a hand in an arc that might possibly represent adrenaline or a line in an abstract painting. “Wasn’t thinking at that time,” he admitted. 

“Clearly, not thinking is a shared trait among officers.” 

The new voice had come from the entrance to the room. Wang Yibo was immediately on alert, until the rational part of his brain reminded him he was in a hospital and that was likely a doctor, not a threat. Qian Feng saying “Ah, Doctor Xiao! You haven’t met our newbie yet!” was also a pretty big giveaway. The man in scrubs was fresh-faced despite the hour, eyes crinkled into a smile above the surgical face mask. Even the scrubs could not detract from his tall, slim figure. 

He had beautiful eyes. And a beautiful voice. 

“So who is this new officer?” Doctor Xiao asked. 

“Wang Yibo!” Qian Feng said before Wang Yibo could gather his wits. “He joined our division two weeks ago.” 

“Nice to meet you, Officer Wang. I’m Xiao Zhan. Congratulations, by the way.” 

Wang Yibo cleared his throat. He felt very dumb when all he could manage to say was, “For?” 

“Landing in the ER in the shortest amount of time since joining the force.” 

He attributed the bark of laughter that came out of him to three a.m. delirium. Qian Feng, who had suffered a week before Wang Yibo relaxed enough to crack a smile around them, widened his eyes to resemble ping-pong balls. “I do like to break records,” Wang Yibo said. “It’s cool.” 

“Not cool,” Xiao Zhan said. 

“Cool,” Wang Yibo said.

“Really not cool.”

“No?”

“Not when it leads to injuries.” 

Wang Yibo glanced at his arm, bleeding out into the wad of bandages hastily applied as first aid. “I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.” 

“Don’t believe him,” Qian Feng said. “And especially don’t believe him when he says he’s not in pain.”

“Hmm. Are you a difficult patient, Officer Wang?” 

Xiao Zhan snapped on a pair of sterile gloves with clean, brisk movements, making it difficult for Wang Yibo to process the question. He eventually said, “Maybe. I can try not to be, with incentive.” 

Qian Feng stared at Wang Yibo. He stared at Xiao Zhan. He stared at Wang Yibo again. 

Xiao Zhan chuckled, leaning over to remove the bandages with efficiency so as to examine the injured arm. “I’m afraid the only incentive is getting to go home before the sun rises, but do try and make things easier for us.” He hummed in thought as he assessed the injury. “You’re very lucky this didn’t catch an artery.” 

“Hah! Told you, Feng-ge. I’m _fine_.” 

“Yeah, yeah, so this is how my love is repaid,” Qian Feng complained. He shook his head and stood up. He stared at Wang Yibo again, which was strange for him. Maybe he really was worried about the injury, but that wouldn’t explain the knowing look. Wang Yibo couldn’t suss it out before Qian Feng said, “Soooo...I guess I should wait outside!” 

Xiao Zhan nodded. “It shouldn’t take too long, Officer Qian.” 

“It’s alright, I leave him in your good hands. I have to call the chief anyway,” Qian Feng said. 

To Wang Yibo’s horror, Qian Feng proceeded to wink at them. Loudly. Obviously. Then he bustled out the door, whistling an old love song Wang Han liked to play in the division. If Wang Yibo were a lesser man, he might have combusted on the spot. 

Xiao Zhan blinked. “Well,” he said, mild and pleasant. “Officer Qian is cheerful as always.” 

“Don’t mind him.”

“I’ve seen enough officers in the ER to bother minding every little thing,” Xiao Zhan said. In the space of a blink his voice was serious as he continued, “I’m going to remove the glass and stitch up the wound. It’s a simple procedure, but you might want local anesthetic.” 

“It’s fine. I don’t need it.” 

“Are you sure? This is not the time to play cool,” Xiao Zhan said. Under the professional concern, there was admonishment in his voice. 

Wang Yibo raised an eyebrow. “I’m not _playing_ cool.” 

Xiao Zhan shook his head, but Wang Yibo caught the trace of amusement in his eyes. “Ah, my mistake then, Officer Wang. I’ll trust you to tell me if you change your mind.” 

Qian Feng hadn’t been wrong when he guessed at Wang Yibo’s high pain threshold. If it came down to a debate between nature and nurture, Wang Yibo could confidently say this aspect was born out of nurture. He hadn’t given much thought to it—other than acknowledging the times he had been able to make an escape by ignoring the pain—but now it meant he could reap the benefit of concentrating on Xiao Zhan as he worked. He was careful and firm as he removed the glass and cleaned the wound, his entire being focused as he stitched it up. From time to time his gaze flicked to Wang Yibo, likely to assess if he needed a breather, only to hurriedly look back at his work every time he found Wang Yibo staring at him. 

“How long have you worked here, Doctor Xiao?” 

Xiao Zhan made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat. “Two years.” 

Wang Yibo made a quick calculation. “So you’re...twenty six?” 

“Twenty seven this year,” Xiao Zhan corrected. “I worked at a general hospital for a year before coming here.” 

“Oh. Why’d you come _here_?”

The early hour was stripping of any filter Wang Yibo might have had, thin as it was even when he was fully awake. The community hospital was functional, but Wang Yibo couldn’t imagine any doctor willingly giving up a better-paid position to come here. 

Xiao Zhan was silent for a while before he said, “I wanted to.” He looked at Wang Yibo, eyes crinkled into a smile once again. “If I were to ask you why you chose to become a police, Officer Wang, what would you say?” 

It answered Wang Yibo’s question, while not answering it at the same time. The impossibility of condensing everything, from the time he met Cho Seungyoun to the time he met Wang Han, led him to the only answer he felt it was possible to give in the liminal moment between very late night and very early morning.

“I wanted to,” he said.

He felt a wild surge of satisfaction when that earned his first laugh, surprised and genuine, from Xiao Zhan.

**Author's Note:**

> It is my belief that at least once, every writer should write something purely self-indulgent.  
> I will try to continue this as best as I can.


End file.
